Hymn To Lucifer

Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?Without its climax, death, what savour hathLife? an impeccable machine, exactHe paces an inane and pointless pathTo glut brute appetites, his sole contentHow tedious were he fit to comprehendHimself! More, this our noble elementOf fire in nature, love in spirit, unkennedLife hath no spring, no axle, and no end.

Au Bal

[Dedicated to Horace Sheridan-Bickers]

A vision of flushed faces, shining limbs,The madness of the music that entrancesAll life in its delirium of dances!The white world glitters in the void, and swimsThrough the infinite seas of transcendental trances.Yea! all the hoarded seed of all my fanciesBursts in a shower of suns! The wine-cup brims